


fan my flame to embers

by AFreeQueen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airbender!Kyoutani, Airbending & Airbenders, Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, Fighting, Firebender!Yahaba, Firebending & Firebenders, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Monk!Iwaizumi, Monk!Matsukawa, Secrets, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yahaba Shigeru-centric, firebender!oikawa, i'll go back and edit it later, prince!yahaba
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFreeQueen/pseuds/AFreeQueen
Summary: When the young Fire Nation prince, Yahaba Shigeru, cannot seem to control his fire bending, his father sends him off to the Eastern Air Temple in order to teach him spirituality and harmony.There, he encounters the young air nomad Kyoutani Kentarou, who is the (unfortunate) one tasked with teaching him the fundamentals of his bending. However, the two butt heads and argue, unable to stand the other long enough to actually work on anything.As time goes on, the two learn to work together, understand each other, and see each other a little differently day by day.But when insecurities, doubt, and consequence test the two, only they can decide whether they can simmer down the heat or cause everything to go up in flames.
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	fan my flame to embers

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where in the ATLA timeline this takes place, so feel free to make it up yourself! This was just a split second decision for me to write anyway, so just enjoy the journey!

Yahaba should have seen the attack coming.

He had blocked with his forearms, breaking up the breath of flame aimed at him. He had taken the offensive after, aiming a fist at his attacker's face, flame licking at the knuckles of his fist. He had been too obvious, his moves anticipated. His attacker spun away, rounding back on him with his own momentum to send an elbow to Yahaba's face, catching him off guard and sprawling into the sand.

The barrage didn't end there. Face first in sand, his attacker descended on him again, kneeing him in the side. Yahaba grunted, rolling away and back onto his feet, quickly jerking away when vermillion flame came scalding past him, barely glancing by his nose, a hair width away from burning him, the heat tangible on his skin. 

He sent a roundhouse kick of flame at his attacker, foot planted firmly in the warm sand. Then, he planted both feet apart in the sand, steadying himself, hips swiveling as he punched bouts of flame at his attacker. 

His attacker simply danced away, weaving and dodging each of Yahaba's attacks, causing the start of frustration to prickle hot and sharp under his skin.

Finally, when he had exhausted himself with that, his attacker leapt at him, feet first, knocking him into the sand on his back.

A hand, encompassed in flame, barely missed and implanted deep into the sand as Yahaba sharply twisted his head away. Using this to his advantage, Yahaba kicked his attacker up and off of him, watching as the other man blithely rebounded to his feet. 

From there on, they danced. Yahaba punched and kicked flame at his attacker, while the other bobbed and spun and ducked out of each attack. Slowly, frustration was giving way to desperation and even sooner desperation had morphed into some sick, twisted fury in Yahaba's gut that caused his flame to shift from bright amber to electric blue. 

He grappled with his attacker, hands interlocked, faces matched in feral grins, the air positively charged with intense energy. 

Yahaba pushed forward, his attacker pushed back.

He was losing grip, he could feel it. His feet were starting to slide through sand, his attacker pushing him backwards, strength unmatched. Yahaba's anger took its final metamorphosis as something immensely dark and dangerous overtook his body before he could push the feeling down and wrestle it into submission. 

From his fingertips, a spark. White hot and small.

Still, his attacker persisted forward.

The last of his energy waning, Yahaba felt the crackling of determination at the palm of his hands.

His attacker yelped and jumped away from him.

Just in time, too, as a large stream of lighting shot off from his fingers to ripple in the empty space between them, so forceful that it punched Yahaba back, disappearing into the sand just as quickly as it had appeared in the first place. 

"Woah, Yahaba-chan! I know you really hate losing, but you didn't have to go that far!" Oikawa shouted at him. "You nearly fried me!"

Yahaba simply stared at his hand, detached, panting quietly.

His silence was telling.

"You had no control over that, did you?" Oikawa asked him observantly.

Yahaba looked up. Oikawa was watching him closely. He always did have a keen, eerie way of reading people. Especially his students. 

Softly, Yahaba answered, "No. No, I did not."

Resting his hands on his hips, Oikawa sighed, stretching backwards. "Well, that just means you're getting stronger. Not entirely a bad thing, my disciple."

But beneath the surface of that sentence still remained the unspoken truth: _not a good thing either._

Yahaba had been slowly losing control over his bending for a while. It had been minor mishaps before: a flame sizzling too hot under a teapot, simple sparks firing off of his fingertips when he got annoyed, something half melting in his hand when he held on too tight.

Minor mishaps could be considered excusable, even normal, natural, understandable for a young Fire Nation prince. He simple needed to reel in his firebending and there was nothing wrong with that. It could all be chalked up to inexperience and lack of self-discipline. Yahaba was young, but his talent had been tremendous. With some basic training everyone believed he would simply learn to control his flame.

His father had hired the best firebending teacher his age. Oikawa was a couple of years older than Yahaba, nothing much, but his understanding and execution were flawless. His fighting was legendary, and his prowess as a firebender was renowned. Yahaba felt lucky to train with such a master, overjoyed even that Oikawa chose him. It was his dream, his destiny, to follow in Oikawa's shoes, he knew it. He would need to follow, even possibly surpass Oikawa, as he would some day be the reigning Fire Lord.

His destiny, however, didn't agree.

Minor mishaps evolved into major misfortune. Where his actions had been innocent before, they no longer were so. He was losing control more and more of his bending the more he explored it. Yahaba had set fire to the palace multiple times before. The garden and libraries had faced the worst atrocities by his negligence. When startled by a group of turtle ducks, he had conjured electricity off of his fingertips and shot it into the pond, frying all of the koi and all of the turtle ducks within it, as well as the water plants surrounding it. Now, his temper was unbridled. Should someone set him off, Yahaba was breathing fire angrily at them, flame bursting off his tongue the same way his acerbic words would.

His friends and family were becoming increasingly worried that some day he might hurt someone else or accidentally himself. His advisors, the worst sufferers of his temper, feared him in a way Yahaba had neither expected nor wanted, keeping a healthy distance and careful not to set him off. Even his father had taken notice. And that had been the most shameful of all. 

"Shigeru."

Both Yahaba and Oikawa looked up.

Among the stands, there were few people. A couple were Yahaba's wary advisors while some were palace staff. Yahaba spied his best friend, Watari, along with the rest of the staff and Oikawa himself, bowing to the Fire Lord as he gazed down into the pit, eyes hard and mouth set in a pursed line. 

As Yahaba ground his teeth down, he could feel the crunch of sand and grit between them.

Yahaba's father simply nodded his head towards the exit door and disappeared through the opening. 

"That's my cue," he sighed as he made his way out of the arena.

Oikawa slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder as he walked past the older, making his way to the changing rooms.

Once Yahaba was clean and dressed, he walked into his father's study. His father was sitting at his desk, reading over and signing papers. Configuring treaties and business, no doubt. A job Yahaba would be doing one day.

He knocked on the door once, trying to discard the heavy thoughts from his own mind.

The Fire Lord looked up at him. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Yahaba sat.

His father set down his pen and sat up straight. Although the two were nearly the same height, Yahaba always felt small around his father. He wasn't sure whether it was the world-weary gaze his father bestowed upon him, scrutinizing his every move through the eyes of a worldly wanderer, or the immeasurable power that radiated off such a man. Being the head of the Fire Nation, with its unmatched army and advanced industrialism, was as much a heavy burden as a daunting testament to self-awareness. People were always watching, the fate of the world looming like dead weight over the Fire Lord's head.

As was the life of the leader of the world's most powerful nation.

Yahaba squirmed in his seat, trying not to let those thoughts unsettle him. 

"You wanted to see me?" he asked his father.

"Right." His father sighed and sat back. "How is your training going with Oikawa?"

Yahaba froze.

Uncertainly, he replied, "Good?"

His father raised an eyebrow at him, not unkind. "Is that a question?"

"Well, you see—" 

"Because I saw you out there today," his father cut in. 

Yahaba's mouth snapped shut and he curled in on himself.

"Just as unrestrained as before."

Now, his father had never been an unkind man. He simply did not mince his words. Yahaba had fond memories of the two of them when he was a child, when the world had been a calmer, peaceful place and the Fire Lord didn't have to spend so much time working or traveling. Yahaba supposed that his father, over the many years he was Fire Lord, had unlearned quaint, delicate speech and had become consumed by diplomacy and making clear what he was laying down. He didn't skirt around any issue because he no longer needed to. It was a waste of time.

Yahaba wondered when he had gone from being family to being considered more work to the Fire Lord. 

The thought ashamed him.

"Father—" Yahaba tried again.

His father shook his head. "I talked to Oikawa earlier today. He says you have potential, and I know that. However, what he fails to communicate is whether you are advancing or not. He falters each time."

More unspoken words. You _falter each time._

His father's expression softened into concern. "Oikawa has taught you all he can to control your bending. But he is not enough. Your mother is right, and I have ignored her concerns long enough. As future Fire Lord, you must master your bending. How do you expect to control anything around you when you cannot control yourself?"

Yahaba hung his head. "I'm sorry, Father."

"No matter," his father dismissed gently. "We will figure this out yet."

Yahaba looked up, eyes glassy with frustrated tears. He croaked out a weak, "How?"

His father smiled softly. "I must send you away."

Yahaba flinched away as his father's words registered.

The smile fell from his face. "I must send you somewhere to connect you back with your roots. I've contacted some air nomads. These monks will help guide you to spirituality once more."

Yahaba sat, shocked, staring agape at his father. 

The Fire Lord nodded resolutely, eyes hard. "This is the only way."

"Is it?" Yahaba questioned, his desperation mounting once more. "Why must I go there? Why can I not study here? Surely there are other teachers, especially in the Fire Nation, that can teach me."

His father closed his eyes, sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shigeru."

"What is spirituality supposed to teach me?" he carried on, emboldened. "Something I can't find myself? Without the help of those people?"

" _Shigeru,_ " his father warned, voice commanding.

Yahaba recoiled.

His father's frown was enough to deter him from any further argument.

"You will be leaving for the Eastern Air Temple in a week's time. I assigned Oikawa and Watari to accompany you." His father looked at him with meaningful eyes. "The air nomads have agreed to help you. Consider yourself lucky. You're dismissed."

Yahaba stood quickly and stormed out of the room.

* * *

Yahaba was punching a hanging bag when Watari found him, later.

"Maybe it's for your own good." His best friend reasoned.

"What, shipping me off to the single farthest place on the planet for some bogus training is for my own good?" Yahaba scoffed, giving the bag a good punch. 

"Well, what if it isn't some bogus training?" Watari countered. "You know your father. Do you really think he would send you there just to spite you?"

"Yes," Yahaba answered, although he knew the true answer was no.

Watari frowned. "Then I don't think you're thinking clearly. You're letting your rage blind you, Shig. And you know what happens when you let that happen."

Yahaba stopped punching the bag and grabbed it, breath panting across it wetly, pressing his forehead against the cold, smooth leather.

"Oikawa and I are going with you. If you really thought this was a punishment, then why would he let us come along with you?"

"Because Oikawa's boyfriend has connections there."

A laugh bubbled out of Watari's mouth. "Seriously?"

"Because he thinks I need supervision." He argued again.

"Well..." Watari shot him a teasing grin. "I can't deny that one."

Yahaba groaned.

"Shigeru," Watari called. "I think we both know your father is sending you to the Eastern Air Temple for your own good. He loves you. He just wants the best for you."

Yahaba sighed, his forehead dragging down further against the leather punching bag. "But why _there_?"

"I really don't see what the problem is," Watari argued. "So what if you go to the air nomads? You're lucky. They don't teach anyone!"

"It's so _embarrassing_." Yahaba whined, closing his eyes and relishing in the cool air of the room.

"Embarrassing? What's there to be embarrassed about?" Watari threw his arms out to either side of him. "This is a great honor!"

"Shinji," Yahaba turned to face him, hands on his hips. "It's embarrassing that I can't even control myself to the point my father has to send me away to the only other people who can contain me. In secret."

"Ah, don't look at it like that," Watari swiped a playful, dismissive hand in his direction. "This is just an extent of your training. Once you're through this, you'll be one of the strongest firebenders in the Fire Nation. Maybe on the planet. Hell, in history, even!"

Yahaba shot his best friend a skeptical look.

"Okay, I'm exaggerating," Watari conceded. Yahaba opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Watari kept talking. "But! But. You really got to stop looking at this entire thing as another set of failures. Shigeru, it's okay that it's taking you a little longer to get ahold of your bending. You heard Oikawa. You're powerful. It takes practice in order to reign all that in."

Yahaba wanted to believe his friend, he did. But every nervous glance in his direction and subsequent display of distance from him, every hushed conversation behind his father's closed office door, every burned down or destroyed palace property was a set back. Every misstep was a little chip of Yahaba's confidence gone. Every misstep was a little whisper at the back of his mind telling him he was a danger to the people he loved most, a disappointment to his father, and an unfit heir to the throne.

What if the air nomads couldn't fix him? What if he only got worse under their guidance? Then what? He would be an embarrassment to his family's legacy. He would be a danger to his own country and to the entire world. He was an only child. Who would fulfill his place?

"Hey," Watari called softly. Yahaba could see compassion in his eyes. Yahaba would never admit it, but where he felt the need to hate such an emotion, he only appreciated it coming from his friend. "It's going to be alright."

Yahaba nodded silently. 

At night, alone in his room, he had trouble falling asleep. He laid on his side, staring at the wall of his bedroom. 

These weren't uncommon occurrences for Yahaba. Sometimes, if the world settled heavy on his mind, thoughts spun black and insidious by his own imagination, it was hard for him to relax. Today was a little different.

Tonight, his mind was preoccupied with his travel. He really, really, _really_ didn't want to go to the Eastern Air Temple. Yahaba had nothing against monks and airbenders, he had met Oikawa's boyfriend a couple of times and the guy was so level-headed and nice and so _not_ like Oikawa that Yahaba had wondered how they even got along, as well as liking him almost immediately on the spot. But would they judge him? Would they whisper about him? Would they tell others about the reason he was there?

No one knew about Yahaba's problems except for those closest to him. A handful of advisors, his family, his closest friends. That was it. Since nobody saw it as such a big issue until recently, the royal family had yet to divulge the information to the public. And that was lucky yet, since Yahaba had only regressed from the point on.

Which beckoned the question: what had his father told the air temple monks? How much did they know? Anything? He supposed they had to know _something_ , otherwise why would they have agreed to help him? Diplomacy? Their basic, unwavering dedication to spirituality? Something even he could not fathom? 

Yahaba could feel the anxiety roiling in the pit of his stomach, squeezing at his chest uncomfortably.

He really, really didn't want anyone knowing about his trip to the Eastern Air Temple. Then the cat would be out of the bag and the entire world, forget just the people of the Fire Nation alone, would see how unfit he was to rule and become future Fire Lord. If he thought he was in an embarrassing situation now, then should the information get out, it would be downright unbearable. He'd be a laughing stock, a complete failure. People would mock him, jeer, laugh at him in the streets. He wouldn't be able to show his face around, the shame would be so great. He'd cease to leave the palace ever again. 

No, no one could know. He would have to talk to his father. And possibly all the air temple monks assisting him. 

The thought alone made him immediately feel uneasy. 

Waking up the next morning for training with Oikawa felt like a welcome relief, but also unidentifiably different. Oikawa knew of their departure and the reason behind such a departure, but he never mentioned it and treated Yahaba the same as always.

Following the confrontation with his father, the week had gone by too quickly for Yahaba.

His mother was excited for him. She kept telling him stories of the world outside of the Fire Nation as she helped him pack his belongings for the trip. She seemed blissfully unaware of her son's deeply troubled inner thinkings, the emotions churning inside him like the currents of deep water. 

Watari tried his best to keep Yahaba afloat, but day by day the two found themselves sitting more in strained, pregnant silence than the light-hearted banter they usually surrounded themselves with. It was the testament to their upcoming significant journey, only a few days away. Neither had the courage to dissolve the tension as there was no easy way to do so, they both knew the weight of what was to come. Every attempt was rejected by the weighted, awkward silence that followed.

Each day the pressure mounted. Each day left Yahaba shaken to his core. What if he messed this up? No, he couldn't mess this up. But what if he did? No, he shouldn't think like that. He would only be manifesting his destiny. But what if that destiny is one where he cannot get a grip on himself? What will they do? Strip him of his power? Strip him of his bending? Throughout the week, nights were fitful dreaming at best and countless hours trying to work out the knots in his stomach at worst. 

Finally, on the day of his departure, he stood on the dock, watching dark, murky water collide up against he side of the pier as Oikawa ran his mouth beside him. Yahaba heard none of it, simply washing away the high buzz of his voice with the constant drone of cart wheels against the wood of the dock. The palace staff loaded suitcases and other necessities and supplies for their trip, making Yahaba once again uneasy with the length of their journey. And for what? Training that may or may not work?

Yahaba watched with faint interest. As another round of luggage was carted into the hull of the ship, the cracking boom of it all hitting the boat's metal interior, Yahaba could feel it in his bones, could hear it resonating in his head. This was it. The beginning to the end. He would either walk away from this with his future intact or with the bloody spoils of a devastating loss, only shards of himself remaining. 

A hand clapped his shoulder. "Make me proud."

Yahaba tried not to gulp. "Yes, sir."

With the last of their things loaded, Yahaba and the crew boarded the ship.

"Wave with a smile, Yahaba-chan!" Oikawa directed from beside him, enthusiastically waving at the gathered crowd. "With a smile, a smile! Don't look so grim, you're not going to war!"

As the ship passed Yahaba's parents, his mother smiling excitedly, a little tearfully, leaning against his father who had an arm around her with a most solemn look on his face, only raising a single hand in acknowledgement as they passed by, Yahaba tried his best.

He wasn't sure if he succeeded, but while it might not have been war Yahaba was trudging into, a reckoning was still coming. Waiting to be seen.

* * *

Yahaba was going to throw up.

The pink haired fellow with hardly any definition of emotion on his face who was wielding the creature didn't seem to have much consideration for their well-being. Or maybe it was just the fact that Oikawa was hollering joyfully at their ride and Watari beside him was laughing along like nothing was wrong that prevented him from noticing Yahaba's pressing inner turmoil.

They had been at sea for nearly a month before arriving at the Eastern Air Temple. They had gotten lucky and were able to shorten the trip by maneuvering their way through all of the islands of the Earth Kingdom instead of going all the way around. Just in time too because if Yahaba had to stand even one more day of Oikawa yakking about _how much he missed Iwa-chan_ this or _how excited he was to see Iwa-chan_ that or _how much he loved Iwa-chan_ in general, Yahaba would have thrown him overboard. And would have gotten away with it too, he was the damn Fire Nation prince after all.

Watari kept him occupied for the most part when he wasn't repressing his murderous intent against Oikawa. The stifling air around the two of them had loosened a bit over the month at sea. Yahaba had apparently thought himself out the entire week before the trip that during the one month on ship, he hardly thought about his future at all. Instead, he and Watari joked around all the time, sometimes including Oikawa when he wasn't being sappy. Other than that, Yahaba went on being the prince. He read, studied, talked to the captain and crew of the ship, and played Pai Sho with whoever would take him. Besides losing to Oikawa, Yahaba had a good winning streak going for him. It was nice.

Then they arrived at the base of the island home to the Eastern Air Temple. There must have been some signal or some type of communication unbeknownst to him because they were stationed at the mouth of some caves for three days before the unmistakable roar of a flying bison drew everyone's attention.

Floating above the surface of the water were three flying bison. A single man, the same pink haired one, emotionlessly greeted Oikawa. 

"Makki!" Oikawa called gleefully. 

He about near threw himself overboard trying to hug the other. 

Yahaba examined him quietly. The man didn't have any blue airbending tattoos, so this couldn't be one of the men teaching him, right?

Meeting his gaze squarely, the man inclined his head. "Your Highness. I'm Hanamaki Takahiro. I was sent down here to collect you and your belongings."

Yahaba glanced around. "How do you suppose we go about that? Is there any way to haul furniture up the mountain besides stairs?"

Hanamaki looked at him blankly.

"Yahaba-chan," Oikawa explained with a grin, "Why do you think there're flying bison here?"

Yahaba blanched.

Oikawa laughed and climbed up next to Hanamaki. "Watari-kun, cmon. The men can handle loading stuff onto the other bison. You've ever ridden one before?"

Watari grinned widely, taking Oikawa's forearm and pulling himself up onto the saddle. "No, but I've always wanted to try."

Oikawa turned laughing eyes towards Yahaba, a mocking smirk sliding into place. "What about you, young master? Wanna go for a ride?"

Yahaba shuffled nervously. "Do I have a choice?"

In short: no, he did not.

Which is how he came to his current predicament in trying not to hurl as the flying bison ascended up the steep mountain face, clouds crisp and cold against his cheeks. Oikawa, the maniac, wasn't holding on to anything and Watari continued to laugh, one hand stroking through the clouds and another safely latched onto the side of the saddle. Yahaba, it seemed, was the only one holding on for dear life with both hands, feeling his eyes tear up with the wind blowing in them, his breath shallowing as they continued to rise still, listening to the rumbling of the animal underneath him and clamping his mouth firmly shut to prevent anything from coming up.

Finally, _finally_ , the Eastern Air Temple was before them.

"Oh, wow," Watari breathed.

On three individual mountain peaks were the three main towers of the air temple. Swathed in ivory walls and adorned by emerald rooftops trimmed in gold, it was a sight to behold against a bright blue sky. Connecting the three peaks were a series of bridges and imbedded in the mountain side were even more buildings. Where the ground leveled out was where the clouds folded in around the mountain, skirting the entire air temple in dewy fog. Upon looking at it, Yahaba wasn't sure it was the lack of oxygen with being so high up or the magnificence of the architecture that made him breathless.

The bison landed on an outstretched, carved, circular jut of the mountain. Waiting on the platform was a tall, dark haired man, hands behind his back, his robes gently stirring from the breeze. He wore a small smile, curls falling softly to one side of his face as they climbed off the flying bison to greet him.

"Your Highness," he addressed, bowing. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Matsukawa Issei, your guide for the evening." 

"Mattsun!" Oikawa shouted, throwing his arms around the man.

"Does he know everyone here?" Yahaba muttered under his breath.

Watari shot him an amused look. "Wouldn't put it past him."

"Are you the leader around here?" Yahaba asked aloud.

Matsukawa's eyebrows raised. "Leader? We have no such thing. We are only a group of monks who teach the younger generations our ways." 

Yahaba examined the man. Aside from the dark hair, he at least had the bright blue tattoos synonymous to all airbending masters. This was most likely the man who would teach him spirituality. 

"Are you my teacher, then?" he asked directly.

Matsukawa smiled at him. "Not me specifically. I preside over the young air nomads to help teach them bending. I do happen to be the one your father contacted, though."

"In that case, may I request—" Yahaba started.

"Confidentiality?" Matsukawa surmised. "Your father spoke to us about it. No one outside this circle knows of your origins, Your Highness. We assure you that all discretion has been taken to ensure your anonymity from everyone besides the three of us."

"Three?" Yahaba asked.

"Iwa-chan, of course!" Oikawa burst out. "You remember him, Yahaba-chan, don't you?"

Yahaba nodded. "So only you three know?" 

Matsukawa nodded in return. "Iwaizumi and I teach the arts. It's essential that the two of us are in constant contact with you and your father, as he requested. From this point forward, we will aid you on your spiritual guide."

Yahaba eyed Hanamaki. "Not to be rude, but why does the courier have special privileges?"

There was a moment of silence where everyone looked stunned. Matsukawa, Oikawa, and Watari blinked at him dumbly while Hanamaki's face turned sour.

It was at that moment it dawned on Yahaba that what he said had _indeed_ been interpreted as rude.

"Oh, I'm sorry—" Yahaba started guiltily.

He was cut off by Matsukawa laughing. 

"There's nothing to apologize for, your Highness." He replied. His gaze drifted to Hanamaki. "Takahiro is my husband. As such, he tends to get special privileges. I'm sorry if this upsets you, but I assure you that no one else knows."

Yahaba's mouth parted in surprise.

"On behalf of the prince, we sincerely apologize," Watari interjected. "He meant no harm."

Matsukawa waved a dismissive hand. "I completely understand. But now that we have all of this settled, shall we go take a tour of the temple and meet your teacher?" 

Yahaba's heart thumped painfully against his chest and his mouth went dry. He nodded silently, too afraid to speak.

They walked through beautiful archways, surrounded by enormous pillars on either side. The air temple was completely open, the boundary between air and inner structure nonexistent. Mosaic tile lined the walls and the floors, giving off unbelievable shimmering when the sun hit it just right, spraying the large, open space of the temple in swathes of sea glass blues and greens. The temple was riddled with the overgrowth of plants, branches and vines climbing in through the open top and crawling up pillars to swing gently in the breeze. 

As they walked through the air temple, Yahaba noticed something peculiar. Throughout the temple were smatterings of groups of people. Some congregated in open entryways, some around the hearth of an open flame, some around long dining tables. Everyone was dressed in the same basic monk uniform, so it wasn't like anyone could mistake them for anybody else. They all seemed like adults, but that left hardly any children in sight. But even beyond that phenomena, there was something bothering him.

"Are there only women here?" he asked.

Matsukawa barely turned in his direction as he explained, "Yes, this temple is dedicated to female monks. However, this temple is the most spiritual location out of all of our temples. That's why we've brought you here. Only young students and a select few older men may come here."

Watari exclaimed, "What an honor!" 

As Yahaba shot him a silencing look, Matsukawa agreed, "Indeed."

Yahaba cleared his throat. "Matsukawa-san, out of curiosity, aren't you worried about bringing us here? I'm not that young. Don't you worry I'll get distracted?"

“Hmm.” Matsukawa said mysteriously, looking at Yahaba out of the corner of his eye, smiling just as so. “Your father assured me it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Yahaba startled, flushing red as Oikawa snickered behind him and Watari’s grin appeared far too pleased.

"Ah, would you look at that. Your teacher is just beyond this doorway, Shigeru-kun," Matsukawa said, winking at him conspiratorially when Yahaba looked at him funny. "For anonymity purposes, of course."

Oikawa grinned, "You sure are sly, Mattsun."

Yahaba barely listened to them as his heart pounded in his ears, the blood rushing making him all the more light-headed and weak. His instructor was just on the other side of this wall. The person who would change his life forever, a mere feet away. What would they be like? Smart, wise, intelligent? Kind, considerate, passionate? Yahaba wasn't sure; it could be all of them, or none of them at all. The churning of his stomach started again as they walked through the blinding doorway out into the blazing afternoon sun. 

It was a circular courtyard. To the far left was a staircase leading down. The sound of children's laughter and the rumbling of flying bison mingled in the wind to carry up to them. Leaning over the railing of the courtyard, Oikawa gasped and threw his hand into the air, shouting, "Iwa-chan!"

He took off like a bullet down the steps. Yahaba and Watari also looked over the edge, glancing down into a second circular courtyard below. Etched into the stone were symbols Yahaba was not familiar with, but the same delicate, metal railing they were leaning against encased the yard, overlooking the vast ocean the mountain range island was dominated by. There were multiple children playing out in the yard, a couple flying a kite, some playing hand games in a circle, some sitting up on the railing, looking up at their group curiously before returning to conversation, the younger ones chasing each other around on air scooters.

A certain blonde haired boy faced away from them, sitting in the corner by himself. Yahaba couldn't see what he was doing, but he was hunched forward, the strain of his uniform obvious over the arch of his shoulders.

Together, their group descended the stairs. Some of the younger children stopped and stared. The older ones laughed as Iwaizumi struggled to pry Oikawa off of him. Others approached their group cautiously. Matsukawa smiled softly at them, patting the ones surrounding him on the head lovingly. A toddler with his finger up his nose reached a hand out to Yahaba. Disgusted, Yahaba snatched his hand up into his chest and the small child pouted pitifully as tears started to gather in his eyes.

"Oh, no, don't cry," Watari hushed, sweeping the child up into his arms. "Don't you worry about him. He's just a meanie. Mean, Shigeru, mean." 

Watari stuck his tongue out at Yahaba. The child watched him carefully before turning to Yahaba and imitating the motion. 

Yahaba's lip curled. 

"Shigeru-kun!" Matsukawa called to him. 

Yahaba left Watari to the small group of children surrounding him, arms reaching up in signal of also wanting to be picked up, to join Matsukawa where he stood by Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

"Ah, Shigeru-kun," Iwaizumi greeted genuinely, smile open and friendly and familiar. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

Yahaba returned his smile easily. "I've been good, Iwaizumi-san. Just eager to continue my training."

"Isn't he such a wonderful disciple, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa cooed. "You'll love him."

Yahaba's heart soared. Would Iwaizumi-san be his teacher? It only made sense. From all of the times Yahaba remembered Iwaizumi visiting the palace, he remembered what an amazing bender he was. Often, Iwaizumi and Oikawa would spar in the sand pit of the palace arena. Yahaba and Watari would observe, watching in awe the grace and beauty that came with Iwaizumi's airbending against the speed and agility of Oikawa's firebending. It was raw power on either side, evenly matched as they were. Growing up together had made them familiar with technique and tricks, able to read the other like no other. Often times they'd call a draw, unable to best each other. 

Iwaizumi had all of his airbending tattoos and knew all thirty-six airbending disciplines. His spirituality was unparalleled, documented by the spreading of his philosophies to all parts of the world, helping benders of all elements hone in their skills and connect better to their chi. And to top it all off, he was the same age as Oikawa. They seemed a fitting duo.

He would be a worthy teacher for Yahaba.

"When can we get started?" Yahaba asked.

The trio looked at him quizzically. 

Yahaba met all of their eyes. "What? What is it?"

"Wouldn't you like to meet your instructor first?" Matsukawa replied.

Yahaba's stomach dropped.

Oikawa nodded excited, teasing. "Yes, I would love to meet Iwa-chan's protégé."

"Protégé?" Yahaba mouthed, his throat failing him and the words coming out as barely even a whisper.

As Iwaizumi elbowed Oikawa in the ribs, Matsukawa asked, "Ah, well, should we meet him, then?"

Iwaizumi turned away from their group, cupping a hand over his mouth to shout, "Kyoutani!"

Yahaba's heart jumped into his throat and froze. 

It was the blonde in the corner. 

His head turned to look over his shoulder, amber eyes narrowing in suspicion. Iwaizumi beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. The blonde stood up reluctantly, body tense and altogether unwelcoming. He stalked over, eyebrows drawn in a dark scowl radiating danger and the obvious low rumblings of delinquencies. There were racing stripes in black along either side of his head, and he had a strong build, proudly on display by the rolled up sleeves of his air nomad uniform. His walk was more of a stalk and the closer he got, the more Yahaba wondered if he was unwittingly preparing for a fight. 

Upon his arrival, Iwaizumi threw an arm around Kyoutani's shoulders, eliciting a grunt from the blonde. 

"Shigeru-kun, this is Kyoutani," Iwaizumi introduced. "Kyoutani, this is Shigeru-kun."

The blonde remained silent.

Yahaba offered him a timid smile. 

Kyoutani met his eye accidently before quickly looking away.

Yahaba's smile fell.

Iwaizumi nudged Kyoutani coaxingly. "C'mon, say hello to your new student."

Kyoutani's eyes widened at the same time Yahaba's did, staring at Iwaizumi with surprise. 

"Are you serious?" Yahaba asked out loud. "Him?"

Kyoutani instantly shot him an intense glare, though Yahaba was looking at Iwaizumi with open displeasure instead.

Iwaizumi smiled easily, "Kyoutani is a natural. He's insanely gifted with airbending and spiritual art. I've personally taken him under my wing to train him. I know he has the potential to teach you great things, Shigeru-kun."

Matsukawa nodded in agreement. "We decided together that it would probably be better for you to learn with someone closer in age to you, to make it more efficient in your learning experience. Kyoutani was born only a couple of months before you, Shigeru-kun. Like you, he's already a master bender and well on his way to doing great things."

Yahaba cut Matsukawa a sideways glance at the sneaky remark, but regarded Kyoutani. He was sizing Yahaba up in a similar fashion, looking relatively unimpressed but still unfriendly. Matsukawa was right, though. Kyoutani did have all of his airbending tattoos. And if Iwaizumi personally did choose to train him, it must have meant _something_ about his talents.

"Are you really sure that's such a good idea?" Yahaba questioned. "No offense, but if this guys is still in training, what makes you think he can teach me anything?"

Kyoutani let out a small growl from the back of his throat that Yahaba raised his eyebrows at. 

"I did say no offense," he supplied with a careless shrug. 

Iwaizumi, bless his heart, continued to smile proudly, "Mastering bending and teaching it are two very different things. While Kyoutani wouldn't be teaching you airbending, there are still lessons in patience, technique, and determination that comes with the job of teaching anything. You are your students triumphs and failures. It's about being selfless and attuned to your student and their needs. He could learn a lot from it."

Yahaba's eyebrows drew together. "Sure, he learns stuff from it, but what about me? What do I get out of it? I didn't come here to be a science experiment."

Kyoutani made a move like he was going to step in Yahaba's space, but Iwaizumi's grip on his shoulder immediately stopped him.

"I understand your concern, Shigeru-kun," Matsukawa stepped in. "But as we explained, if anyone here can teach spirituality and connection to you and your roots, its someone who's been in your shoes before."

"How about someone experienced?" Yahaba bartered.

"There is only one way to gain experience, Shigeru-kun," Matsukawa argued. "It's through practice. And like we said before, both Iwaizumi-san and I will be watching over your progress. There isn't anything for you to fear."

But there was. There was so much for him to fear. Losing his home, his throne, his respect as a royal. That was all on the line and thrust upon a blonde delinquent student that was staring at Yahaba with more animosity on his face than he had ever experienced in his life. Could he trust this person to actually help him? The future of the entire world was on this person's shoulders. Should he fail, Yahaba wasn't sure what would happen.

"Shig," Watari whispered to him from behind.

"Shigeru-chan," Oikawa said with a stern tone. "I think you should accept this offer."

Yahaba spared him a quick glance. His firebending instructor was looking at him with fixed resolve. 

What else could Yahaba do? Go home and tell his father the petty reason for his return was the fact that he didn't like his teacher? That he had arrived home without learning anything and risking all of their futures because he was prideful and shallow?

With a furious sigh, Yahaba relented. "Fine. I accept."

"Wonderful!" Matsukawa clapped joyfully. "You two shall start tomorrow morning. In the mean time, let us show you to your rooms and prepare dinner."

They dispersed. Oikawa, Watari, and Iwaizumi followed Matsukawa as he walked towards the open door to the closed off, residential portion of the temple. 

Yahaba trailed behind, peering at the blonde as he walked the opposite way of the rest of the group.

"Hey," Yahaba called out to him.

The blonde, Kyoutani, paused and his head turned to address Yahaba.

"You better be ready to teach me," he demanded. "You have no idea how important this is to me and a lot of other people." 

Kyoutani eyes only grew darker, his anger permeating through the lenses of his irises. He gave one stiff nod to Yahaba before turning to walk into the shadows of the temple cast by the waning evening sun.

* * *

Yahaba only had a little trouble falling asleep that night.

Since the air nomads were pacifists, they did not eat any meat. Watari and Oikawa had adjusted quickly; Watari enjoying the experience as something adventurous and acting grateful while Oikawa was used to the cuisine as a frequent visitor to the air temples around the globe. Yahaba, however, sat miserably in his seat throughout dinner, quietly picking at all the strange fruits and vegetables on his plate and missed all of the meat served at the palace and even that on their ship. There was no way in hell he would risk a flying bison ride again just to grab some jerky, though.

The night had been a little stuffy. It was hot in his shared room with Watari. He tossed and turned throughout, trying to find the coolest spot on the pillow and stripping out of as many clothes as was appropriate before exhaustion finally took over and drew him down into sleep.

It was a gentle rap at the door that woke him.

Watari still slept soundly beside him on the adjacent bed as he made his way to the door.

A grinning Oikawa handed him an air nomad uniform, telling him to get ready for his first lesson, and then leaving him to blind in a stupor in the aftermath.

After he had brushed his teeth and gotten ready for the day, he was escorted out to the open training grounds of the air nomads. It was a round platform made of creamy stone with the same carvings he had seen the other day imbedded in it. The run was just beginning to break the horizon when his escort bowed and left him. A small pagoda sat facing the impending sunrise, a figure faced away from him sitting to watch the pinkening of the sky burst in color. 

Yahaba walked towards him, examining the position he was sitting in. Legs crossed over each other while seated upon an orange, square cushion, posture stiff and straight like the lines of the pagoda pillars, fists pressed knuckle to knuckle. 

It was Kyoutani, not to any of Yahaba's surprise. Though, the relaxed look on his face with his eyes closed, simply breathing evenly the fresh mountain air, did take Yahaba by surprise. Gone was the scary, unapproachable student from yesterday. In his place sat a confident, pious master ready to guide him through trial and test. 

"Sit," Kyoutani told him.

Yahaba startled. Only then did he realize that Kyoutani hadn't spoken yesterday when they met. His voice was a little rough, a little raw, probably for frequent disuse. It wasn't low or high, but a pleasant middle that seemed far more congenial than the guy himself was actually capable of or looked like. 

"What, no breakfast first?" Yahaba joked.

Kyoutani cracked an eye open to give him a black look. " _Sit,_ " he repeated, harder this time.

Yahaba grumbled under his breath but sat.

It was a mesmerizing view. The sun had now risen enough now that the sky had been splashed in colors of violet, navy, and vibrant pink. The clouds were cotton candy soft and filtered the scenery in a foggy afterglow. The ocean below was quiet, simply a black ripple along a kaleidoscope of colors erupting up along the horizon line. 

"So, this is pretty and everything," Yahaba broke the silence, "but what is this doing for me besides boring me back to sleep?"

Kyoutani huffed out an annoyed noise. "Close your eyes. Relax. Focus on your breathing."

"Meditation," he said softly. "Okay, got it."

Yahaba rearranged himself to copy Kyoutani's posture, but after multiple failed attempts and falling over, Kyoutani turned his head to look at him. 

"You don't have to look like me," he snapped. "Just sit normally."

Yahaba glared. "Sheesh, why didn't you just say so before?"

Yahaba wiggled his butt on the cushion, snuggling in for a comfortable position. Once he'd found it, he sighed out contently. 

It was surprisingly peaceful to just sit, listening to nothing but the slight breeze shuffle the sparse plantation. At times, he could hear it wind around the buildings, whistling through tight architecture or howl through the open doorways of the temple. The sun wasn't high enough to be stifling yet, so the breeze was actually cooling him down. The air nomad outfit was more comfortable than Yahaba would credit for, but he supposed it wasn't made like Fire Nation armor, tough and heavy, meant to protect. It was still dark out, and even though the punch of the sun was a small circle in the middle of his closed, it did not deter him from drifting, not fully rested...

The next moment, a cushion was whacking him awake.

"Wah—" Yahaba sputtered. "Did you just hit me?"

"You fell asleep," Kyoutani replied, as if it were some type of justification.

"Are you insane?" Yahaba jumped to his feet as Kyoutani walked away from him. "Do you know who I am?"

Just as Yahaba was realizing the implications of his question did Kyoutani answer, "No." Then, to add insult to injury, "Nor do I care."

"That's besides the point," Yahaba backtracked. "I can't believe you'd just _hit_ a sleeping person."

"You weren't supposed to be sleeping," Kyoutani shot back. 

"Well, no shit," Yahaba spat. "But you didn't really tell me what we _were_ supposed to be doing, so whose fault is it really?"

Kyoutani whipped around, facing him with blazing eyes. "You obviously need more work than I thought."

Yahaba stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"You can't even perform simple meditation."

Yahaba frowned, offended. "I was tired. You woke me up before sunrise."

Kyoutani shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Does training and meditation wait for you to be awake? Do you think that's how it works?"

Yahaba opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't really have a good reply to that.

"You _adjust_ ," Kyoutani replied. 

"I just need more time, then," Yahaba argued.

"You need discipline, you're obviously lacking it," Kyoutani said.

Frustration licked under Yahaba's skin, as did anger. 

"You're not being fair," he tried again.

Kyoutani scoffed and Yahaba felt something _burn_ in his throat.

"What are you, five?" Kyoutani mocked him.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?" he sniped with obvious heat this time.

Kyoutani considered him a moment in silence, head tipped back, eyes lidded. Then, a small, little haughty smirk graced his mouth.

"I think a five year old probably has more potential than you." 

" _You bastard!_ " 

Blue flames exploded out of Yahaba's mouth. They rampaged high into the morning air, flying across the court with the venom and power that Yahaba had been trying to subdue like sparks jumping off a small, harmless fire, spreading and setting anything in its path ablaze.

When he had finally clamped his mouth shut, Yahaba watched Kyoutani's grim expression. 

"So Iwaizumi was right," he said.

"About what?" Yahaba gruffly spat.

"That your temper's just as bad as mine." 

Yahaba stumbled backwards, taken aback.

Kyoutani looked off toward the temple tower. "Breakfast will be served soon. You should go back to your room. We'll continue this later."

With that, he conjured an air scooter and was gone. 

Yahaba was simply left blinking in befuddlement.

**Author's Note:**

> So as you guy might've guessed, this was supposed to be a one-shot that turned into three chapters. Oh boy. Well, it was getting too long to be just one chapter, so I decided to split it. Anyway, triple the content, I guess, have fun.


End file.
